


they say its your birthday

by ebenroot



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Birthday Party, Gen, Kid Fic, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebenroot/pseuds/ebenroot
Summary: “Clowns are creepy. We’re not having a clown, Victor.”“What if I dressed up as a clown?”Yuuri is pensive for a moment, then he pushes his glasses further up his nose in a disapproving manner. “Then I’m afraid I won’t be able to have sex with you until that mental image of you in clown makeup is purged from my mind,” Yuuri says with a shrug.--happy birthday hailey!!!!





	they say its your birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haileycl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haileycl/gifts).



It’s maybe ten-o-clock at night when Victor mumbles into his pillow, “Do you think it will be alright?”

 

Yuuri looks up from the book he was reading before bed, thumb tucked against the sentence so he can continue as he looks upon his husband’s saddened expression. Victor is a mess of stubble and bedhair and oversized sweats that he will surely strip out of while he sleeps. His eyes are glazed over, which makes Yuuri wonder if Victor is even consciously awake at the moment. It’s nothing at all like the image of a five-time world champion and Russia’s ice skating legend that is plastered all over the television and stuffed into magazines. Strangely, it makes the little butterflies in Yuuri’s chest flutter all the more sweetly knowing he’s the only one that gets to see this Victor, _his_ Victor.

 

“What do you mean?” Yuuri asks. His voice has touches of sleep itself, but yet he refuses to shut his eyes and cuddle close to Victor’s warmth.

 

“The party,” Victor clarifies. He scratches at his chin, Yuuri feeling Victor’s feet brush along the side of his ankle as he shifts in the bed to properly face Yuuri. “It’s a milestone, you know? What if things don't go perfectly?”

 

“Victor, he’s only turning one. He won’t even remember it. Besides, the party is tomorrow, so it’s too late to make any sudden changes,” Yuuri chides. As he says this, both heads turn to look at the baby crib positioned a few feet away from the bed against the wall. Anton is still fast asleep, little hands curled into tight fists. Yuuri believes that the child is a godsend, one that actually sleeps through the entire evening without waking up at the most inopportune of times.

 

He turns to look back at his book. “I thought we agreed that it would be just a small get together with family and friends. We don’t need to make it a _thing_ ,” Yuuri says, turning the page.

 

“But I’m just saying that it should be _something_ important. What if when he’s older and he asks us what did we do for his first birthday and we just tell him ‘nothing’? How would he feel?”

 

“We’re not doing _nothing_. We’re having a small get-together,” Yuuri corrects. He glances back over at his husband with a raised eyebrow. “Do you even remember _your_ first birthday?”

 

“My father videotaped it,” Victor says. His eyes are more awake after talking, sparkling a warm hue that catches the light emitting from the small lamp on Yuuri’s nightstand. “I had a cake all to myself. We had balloons and streamers and a clown-”

 

“We can give him a cupcake and do a _little_ bit of decorating, but a clown is _strictly_ out.”

 

“Clowns are fun though. He’d like a clown,” Victor says with a pout. Yuuri grimaces behind his novel.

 

“Clowns are creepy. We’re not having a clown, Victor.”

 

“What if _I_ dressed up as a clown?”

 

Yuuri is pensive for a moment, then he pushes his glasses further up his nose in a disapproving manner. “Then I’m afraid I won’t be able to have sex with you until that mental image of you in clown makeup is purged from my mind,” Yuuri says with a shrug.

 

“Okay, no clowns.”

 

Yuuri nods his head, then dogears the page he’s currently on so he can pick it up tomorrow evening. He slips the book in the drawer, slips off his glasses, and switches off the lights, snuggling up underneath the covers and closer to his husband. Yuuri’s arms wind around Victor’s torso automatically, nosing in between Victor’s shoulder blades. Victor is warm in his grasp, sturdy and secure. Yuuri’s legs move to tangle with Victor’s and their ankles lock clumsily around each other.

 

It’s quiet for a few seconds, then, “What if we got a magician, Yuuri?”

 

Yuuri mumbles ‘go to sleep, VItya’ against the back of Victor’s neck, and Victor lets out a soft sigh in response.

 

* * *

 

 

“You like those colors, don’t you?” Yuuri asks his son, dropping more colorful streamers over the baby’s head. Anton coos and laughs, little hands reaching out to catch the streamers as they fall around him and cover him in a rainbow mess of tangled paper. Makkachin is lying up against the infant’s back, propping him upright as the child rocks forward and back in erratic little jerks full of excitement and wonder. The sight is overwhelmingly cute, to the point that Yuuri can feel his gut twisting into a knot as the smile stretches further and further out on his face.

 

Embarrassingly, he takes about twenty-three photos of Anton and Makkachin playing in the streamers. Yuuri doesn’t post family pictures on Instagram – because the absolute _last_ thing he wants to be is one of those annoying parents that don’t shut up about their children – but his collection on his phone of Anton just doing cute baby things TM inches ever so closer to the file storage limit.

 

“Yuuri, we could use more balloons,” Victor says from the kitchen, just as he releases another dozen baby blue balloons. Yuuri remembers how Phichit wants to see the new crown molding they had done on their ceiling last month to get an idea for his and Seung-Gil’s renovation of their flat. Now, Yuuri can’t even _see_ the ceiling with all these fucking balloons, and briefly wonders if they will be able to even turn on the ceiling fan when July’s uncomfortable, stuffy heat starts to work its way through their home.

 

“I think we’re good. What about the cake?”

 

“Yurio’s picking it up for me,” Victor answers. Yuuri hums; if there’s anyone else that wants to make sure this birthday is by far the best birthday to ever exist in the history of birthdays, it’s Yuri Plisetsky. He’s not sure how he’s going to handle _two_ grown men aggressively obsessing over a one-year-old’s birthday party.

 

One balloon pops and the infant on the floor jumps in surprise the same time Makkachin’s ears perk up in alarm. Yuuri watches his son’s head wildly look around for the source of the noise, before he sees his little nose scrunch distastefully and his lips curl to let out a whine.

 

“It’s just a balloon,” Yuuri says, rattling the streamers above the child’s head to appease him. Anton sniffles and gives a hiccup, then reaches upwards to make another grab at the colorful paper that just looks so _dang pretty_. Makkachin relaxes as well, lying down as Anton falls backwards against his back and lets the streamers get tangled around his little feet.

 

Yuuri snaps another ten photos before he even realizes he has his phone in his hands.

 

* * *

 

 

Surprisingly, the first guest to arrive is Christophe. Not that Yuuri wasn’t expecting the Swiss man and his husband to attend, but Christophe has always been more of the ‘arrives three hours _fashionably late_ ’ kind of person.

 

“Where is my godson?” Christophe asks as he sheds his Burberry jacket to hang on Victor’s coatrack. The temperature outside – according to Yuuri – is currently ‘up deep in Satan’s asshole’. In other words, way too hot to even be _wearing_ a coat, let alone a heavy Burberry coat. Yet, Christophe doesn’t give any signs that he’s overheated, compared to his husband who graciously accepts a wine cooler Yuuri grabs from the fridge.

 

“He’s right here!” Victor coos, carrying the infant in his arms after a quick diaper change. Anton is dressed up in a onesie with a tuxedo print Yuuri impulse bought from Amazon, and already looks very much done with the entire party from the way he keeps snatching off the birthday hat Victor keeps trying to strap on his head. Christophe takes the baby into his arms and gives him a couple of little bounces in his grasp, smiling as Anton reaches up to make a grab for Christophe’s glasses.

 

He chuckles, appraising the infant with gentle green eyes and quietly says, “Seeing this little face _almost_ makes me want to have a kid of my own.” Then, he hands Anton back over to Victor and smiles even more. “But that would mean giving up my afternoon mimosas and having to come up with lies to answer precocious questions I don’t want to deal with.”

 

That draws a cute little giggle from Anton and Christophe smiles. “I love you _too_ , birthday boy,” Christophe coos, and pulls Victor and Anton in close for a quick selfie for all his Instagram followers.

 

Victor leaves thirty minutes later when he receives the call that his parents have just arrived at the airport. Yuuri’s parents and Mari will be flying out tomorrow for a strictly family-only belated dinner; Yuuri has already resigned to the inevitable fact that his mother and his mother-in-law will plan to stuff him and Victor fat with home cooked meals that can feed the entirety of Russia and Japan combined.

 

While Victor is gone, Mila arrives with her plus one. Yuuri has always been fond of Sara Crispino, who is currently on vacation and looking to unwind before the assignments for the upcoming Grand Prix are posted. The woman is friendly and open and is generally a pleasant person to be around.

 

Michele Crispino is another story.

 

“I couldn’t shake him off,” Mila whispers to Yuuri forlornly, watching as Sara bounces the baby on her knee while Michele spouts out some bullshit about how no guy better _dare_ think about knocking his sister up with a baby. Yuuri just sighs and nods his head. It’s not like it’s a big deal that Michele showed up without being invited, JJ did the exact same thing for their New Year’s Eve party. Yuuri remembered to be cordial and at least extend an _offer_ to attend the birthday party to the younger skater, but JJ responded back in an email that he has summer photoshoots for his brand and ‘hahaha kids are _so_ not JJ Style!!’ and blahblahblah Yuuri didn’t continue past the first sentence to catch up on JJ’s summer plans.

 

“It’s fine. As long as he doesn’t make a fuss and disrupts the party,” Yuuri says. Briefly, he smiles as Anton raises his little hands up to Sara and shows her his palms. Sara smiles, patting her hands against his and marvels at the size difference. Anton giggles and squirms on her lap, then happily raises his hands up and gives Sara’s breasts a squeeze.

 

To the surprise of no one, Michele starts screaming.

 

* * *

 

 

Phichit and Seung-Gil make a Skype call to wish Happy Birthday as well as to inform Yuuri their present should arrive in the mail sometime this week.

 

“Make sure you stream his live reaction!” Phichit says with a laugh, while Anton places his hands all over the laptop screen and tilts his head in confusion when he can’t quite touch Phichit’s lips or Seung-Gil’s husky spread out over both of their laps. Yuuri promises to do so, and gives Phichit some time to coo ridiculous baby words over Skype’s lag before offering goodbyes and a hopeful ‘see you at the Grand Prix!’ and disconnecting the call.

 

Victor arrives with his parents in tow and catering shortly after, which is great because Yuuri realized thirty minutes past the party start time that two bags of chips and six bottles of sodas _aren’t_ substantial appetizers for a main dish. It also didn’t help that, surprise, Victor also invited more people than Yuuri was planning to host.

 

“He’ll be so happy to get all these gifts!” Victor says with a smile as he accepts another shoddily wrapped present from one of their rinkmates. Yuuri doesn’t speak to most of Russian figure skating team, despite training in Russia for almost three years now. But there’s a mutual respect and appreciation for one another, one that is acknowledged with a look from across the room and a forty-five degree upwards tilt of the head.

 

“Aren’t you the cutest little thing in the entire world~” Victor’s mother coos, tickling Anton’s tummy. Beside her, Victor’s father lounges into the too-soft cushion of their ottoman and rubs his beard.

 

“You two hog him too much. When will you let him stay with us?” he asks in gruff Russian before he takes a swig of beer.

 

“Ah, soon. Maybe during the Grand Prix when we’re traveling,” Yuuri responds back in Russian, more proper and – in Yuri’s words – like he’s reading from a Russian textbook. When Victor approaches with two small plates of food, he takes one and welcomes the arm that gently wraps around his waist and Victor’s affectionate nuzzles into the side of his temple. Victor’s mother hums, cuddling the baby against her chest and looks up at Yuuri with smiling eyes.

 

“So, when will you and Vitya have another one?” she asks with a laugh.

 

“Mama, he just turned one,” Victor says. She blinks at him, then bounces Anton on her lap when he gets to kicking and wanting to crawl over to the mountain of presents steadily getting bigger and bigger.

 

“But when will you have _another one?_ ” she asks again. Victor releases his hand from Yuuri’s waist to facepalm.

 

* * *

 

 

Anton opens a few of his presents when Victor and Yuuri aren’t looking, ripping into Georgi’s present wrapped in sparkly blue and green wrapping paper, and crying when the tape gets stuck to his fingers and he can’t get it off. After Yuuri skillfully frees his child from the confines of the sticky tape and hushes his cries, he videotapes Anton opening some more presents that Victor pushes in front of him.

 

There’s lots of teddy bears and stuffed animals, some sets of clothes and even some little gifts for Victor and Yuuri for some much needed ‘them time’. The highlight is a onesie designed to look like Victor’s Stammi Viccino outfit gifted from Mila; Victor strips Anton out of his tuxedo onesie, quickly dresses him up in the Stammi Viccino onesie and then holds his son up in the air like he is baby Simba on display to their friends and family. Christophe snaps a picture of it and posts it to his Twitter timeline; it gets a thousand retweets in less than five seconds.

 

Halfway through the festivities and Anton snuggling into Yuuri’s chest for a quick power nap, Victor pipes, “Where’s Yura with the cake?”

 

“You mean he didn’t message you already?” Yuuri asks. Victor reaches into his back pocket and checks his phone, furrowing his eyebrows as he swipes through the messages for any recent ones.

 

“No, he didn’t text me that he’s going to be late,” Victor mutters, then throws a worried glance to Yuuri. “You don’t think anything happened, do you? What if he got lost? What if something is wrong with the cake order?”

 

“Victor, he’s twenty and he’s babysat for us. He knows how to get to our place,” Yuuri gently chides, though he does admit that its weird that Yuri hasn’t notified them that he’d be running late after Yuri repeatedly texted Yuuri asking for the _exact_ time the cake will be finished so he can hurry up and grab it. Victor brings his thumb to his lips, lightly biting on the tip.

 

“I’ll call him,” Victor says with a quick nod of his head, already bringing his phone to his ear as he quickly excuses himself from the party to head somewhere quiet. Yuuri watches him go, then rubs a tender hand over Anton’s back when he feels him shift in his hold and a tiny fist clutch at the collar of his shirt.

 

Victor returns five minutes later with his phone tucked back into his pocket, Anton’s favorite blanket slung over his forearm, and a small soda for Yuuri to drink.

 

“Well?”

 

Victor beams. “Yurio thought the bakery we picked was too incompetent in fulfilling our birthday cake request so he extorted a refund out of them and has taken it upon himself to make Anton’s birthday cake,” Victor explains. Yuuri blinks.

 

“. . .He _what?_ ”

 

“I think he said something along the lines of ‘those bastards don’t know the difference between a chocolate ganache and a Ho-Ho’. But it’s fine! This is something he wants to do for Anton so I say let him.”

 

Yuuri wants to say that it’s almost five and they still haven’t had a cake and some of their guests are getting ready to leave, not to mention that this cake is for a baby who _also_ doesn’t know the difference between a chocolate ganache and a Ho-Ho. But there’s no stopping Yuri once he’s on a crusade, so Yuuri twists his lips into a sigh and shrugs, taking Anton’s blanket to swaddle the baby in soft cotton linen.

 

* * *

 

Yuri arrives just as the sun skirts the sky, the guests have all retired for the evening, Victor’s parents are safely delivered to the hotel they’ll be staying at for the night, and Victor manages to stuff all party food into neat Tupperware containers to shove into their already overstuffed refrigerator. Anton is back to toying with the streamers that Yuuri was taking down, while Makkachin watches over the child and licks at Anton’s tufts of coal black hair as his own personal present to the youngest family member.

 

“You’re late,” Yuuri tells the young skater with a sigh when he answers the door, looking down at the large cake box the blond is holding in his grip. Yuri clicks his tongue, stepping inside of the home and toeing off his shoes with deft ease to kick into the corner near the coat rack.

 

“You can’t rush perfection, katsudon,” Yuri responds.

 

“I’m not rushing perfection, just you,” Yuuri says dryly. Yuri glares at him, but whatever he’s about to bark out at Yuuri gets swallowed down when Anton gives a happy little coo and drops the streamers in his hands to reach out towards Yuri. Yuri looks down at the little baby smiling a drooling smile and clicks his tongue again, suddenly finding interest with the ceiling.

 

“Why are there so many fucking balloons?” Yuri questions.

 

“Do you think I overdid the decorations?” Victor asks, taking a moment to actually look at the mess of balloons that have deflated and scattered across the floor.

 

“Overdid is an understatement. He’s just a baby, not like he’s going to remember any of this,” Yuri says with a scoff. Yuuri takes a moment to just _stare_ as Yuri places down the handmade cake onto the counter, then immediately gets down onto his knees to scoop the child into his arms. “Happy birthday, you little gremlin,” Yuri says as Anton drags his hands over Yuri’s cheekbones and his nose and his lips. Yuri turns his head to look over at Yuuri, raising an eyebrow. “So, are we going to say ‘Happy Birthday’ or what?”

 

Yuuri nods his head. “Well, better late than never,” he says with a little smile, and gestures for Yuri to follow him into the kitchen as Victor grabs some plates. Yuuri opens up the cake box and looks over the chocolate ganache covered cake topped with little creamy hills of whipped cream and strawberries. It does look appetizing, but Yuri’s cooking is always a treat. It’s just a matter of the blond wanting to indulge that he actually _likes_ cooking food for people to enjoy.

 

Yuuri eases the cake out of the box, blindly searching through the discarded bag that held all party decorations for the large ‘1’ candle to stick it directly in the center. Victor finds the matches after shuffling through the drawer and pulling out embarrassing items Yuuri can’t believe they absolutely had the _gall_ to store in such an open space. Once Yuri chews them out for having lube in a kitchen drawer that Anton could open – “You two have been married for _three years_ , **_why_** are you still like this?” – and also nags them for not having enough baby locks on their drawers, Victor lights the candle and readies his camera.

 

Anton is transfixed by the glow of the candle, eyes big and wide as Yuri gently rocks him from side to side and Yuuri hums a little tune with soft smiles and gently brushing fingers through the baby’s hair. Makkachin bumps up against Yuuri’s calves in his eager excitement to see what’s going on. He braces his front paws against a cabinet drawer, wagging his tail and barks loudly when Yuri helps Anton blow the candle out.

 

Yuuri applauds and, after staring at Yuuri’s hands clap together to make a sound, Anton does the same and claps along. Yuuri reaches to take the child into his arms, dotting his round cheeks with little butterfly kisses. He feels a hand rest on his shoulder, Victor’s warmth against his back and his lips pressing against the side of his temple.

 

“Let’s get some of Yurio’s delicious cake, huh?” Victor says, tickling his fingers underneath his son’s chin to elicit another little giggle.

 

* * *

 

Victor posts the video of Yuuri humming ‘Happy Birthday’ while Yuri rocks Anton and blows out the candle. It is captioned ‘ **spending a very special day with the special men that gave me life and love! And also @y-plisetsky!** ’.

 

Yuuri watches it over and over again, smiles at the way the light flickers over Anton’s face and the glow in his eyes. The baby is sound asleep in his crib, Makkachin stretched out over Yuuri’s legs. Victor got up to get an evening glass of water, and Yuuri can hear Victor accidentally popping balloons in his dizzying sleep. Yuuri smiles, placing a heart on Victor’s video before he admires the little photo of his son and Victor covered in smashed chocolate cake and smiling wide.

 

One birthday down, so many more to go.


End file.
